


We're Steady Apart

by prettybrilliantfunny



Series: We're Steady Apart [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Episode 2x59, Episode Related, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 13:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18624400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybrilliantfunny/pseuds/prettybrilliantfunny
Summary: After the chasme was dead, after Fjord came gasping back to consciousness--Caleb’s hands were still shaking.Coda to C02E59 "Perspective"





	We're Steady Apart

The buzzing was incessant.

 

A tangible, under-the-skin sound that thrummed along his bones and eddied in the scarred divots left by Ikithon’s crystals.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with such a sound, and though the creature that had descended from above was known to him he’d never encountered one outside of his books.  He shook off the sympathetic noise, pulling the adder stomach from his components bag and, drawing it taut, he loosed an acid arrow at the monster.

And then Fjord dropped.

Caleb had seen street puppets as a child, dancing under the clever-quick hands of their owners--colorful felt costumes and curved wooden shoes clacking against the pavement.  It was as though Fjord’s strings had been cut like that--a cast away doll. The arrow went wide. Magic and serpent entrails exploded against the wall just over the chasme’s shoulder and its buzzing went shrill as acid splashed against it, holes eating into its wing. 

Nott--a blur of green and black--rushed into sight and Caleb swore in Zemnian, breath catching as the goblin hurled herself out of and then into danger.

He pulled at the thread of magic in his gut, the shining golden thread that spindled anew every night--pulled and thought _fire_.  The line of magic became orange, sparking as he prepared the bolt.  But Nott didn’t stop. She darted out of the chasme’s reach--fearless--and was up and over Fjord’s prone body so quickly her feet barely touched ground.

Caleb’s relief was fleeting. The fire begged to be released. It began to bleed off the thread, surging towards his heart. He shifted his stance, forced himself to trust Nott’s capabilities, and turned away from the tail end of her cloak disappearing around the corner, fingers coming together to aim the bolt.

The chasme’s needle pierced Fjord’s chest.

(His heart? Caleb’s own heart guttered, a wind-rushed flame.)

No.  The hooked beak had struck just below, Fjord’s body jerking reflexively around the pain. But the warlock’s chest continued to rise, his blood to pulse. It bubbled up from the shorn panels of his armor, sick with black corruption.

Caleb barely registered the burst of white-green light from his left--the deep, sonorous sound of Caduceus casting.  All he saw was the forced arch of Fjord’s back, the gore dripping as the chasme lifted its head. There was no buzzing, no sound; just the white-hot silence of shock

 

After-- 

After the chasme was dead, after Fjord came gasping back to consciousness--Caleb’s hands were still shaking.  He clasped them in front of him, realized how foolish he looked and curled them instead into the sleeves of his coat.  His eyes skittered over the rock-splattered remains of the creature then down at Fjord. His head was on his knees.

“Are you--”

“‘m fine,” Fjord insisted. “I mean...not fight a raging sea hag ‘fine,’ but y’know...”

“ _Ja_ , that was a fun day,” said Caleb, voice deadpan.  Fjord caught the joke all the same, one corner of his mouth curling upward.  Even under all the sweat and blood, he was handsome--too handsome by far. It made Caleb want to shake the fool and kiss him in equal measure.

“Better me than you, I figure,” Fjord grunted, letting Caleb pull him to his feet. ( _Cut palm to cut palm_ ; the thought entered Caleb’s mind and bounced around in there, crashing into synapses in a wild, neurotic show of light and heat).  He dropped his hand immediately, only for Fjord to grab his shoulder. Caleb blinked, bewildered but not deterred.

“I disagree.”

Fjord’s grip was tight, and Caleb shifted closer, tilted his head--letting him know it was alright to lean on him.  Caleb could steady them both; he was not half so fragile as the group liked to joke. Even so, Fjord couldn’t seem to help himself: “You hurt?”

Caleb’s pained smile told more of worry than true injury. He shook his head.  On cue, Caduceus’s low murmuring ceased and a ring of warm white light rippled out across the group.  It passed over Caleb first, stirring the ends of his hair, then over Fjord. The half-orc took a shuddering breath, but he stood a little taller, the grip on Caleb’s shoulder easing.  If Caleb could have given his portion of the healing to Fjord, he would have.

“You are not looking so hot yourself.”

It was true. The rich green of his skin was faded, like parchment left in the sun, and there were bruises of exhaustion under his eyes.  He looked--not thinner--but _less_ somehow; Caleb’s mind could make up for the infinitesimal differences, but his muscle memory still reached for the space Fjord occupied in his universe--each time missing his intended mark by millimeters.  

“I think perhaps Caduceus should take a look.”

Fjord shook his head, “Not right now.”

Caleb frowned, “Creatures like this...they do more than--”

“ _Caleb_ ,” he snapped, and the hurt shuttered Caleb’s face--too sudden to be masked.  Something flittered across Fjord’s face--guilt, maybe?--and was gone just as fast.  The two men stared at each other. Whatever the others were up to, it didn’t break the moment they had circled themselves in.

“I ain’t saying never,” Fjord amended, his voice softer at the edges. “I’m saying give the man a tick. He was all up in the shit of it and I know he’s got a thing for insects ‘n all, but those critters were a mean sort.”

Caleb exhaled slowly. “You are sure?”

“It’ll keep. ‘sides. I got you, don’t I?”

Fjord gestured with a shoulder and that was it. Together they shuffled away from the chasme’s corpse, away from the bone pit with its smell of rot and death.  Caleb didn’t look at him, but his palm itched to take Fjord’s and he curled his fingers over the scar.

“ _Ja_ ,” he murmured. “Always.”

Fjord didn’t answer, though there was little hoping he’d not heard judging by the faint smile pulling at his lips.  The first gut-free wall they found was as good as any and Fjord slumped against it with a grateful grunt. Caleb followed suit, if a bit more delicately, tucking the ragged ends of his coat around him to stave off the cold of the stone.  The careful bubble of privacy they’d crafted wasn’t impenetrable; they were still in a strange, almost certainly hostile stronghold, they still had friends to look after and protect. But for now, it was enough to let the sounds of their voices settle into a muffled hum.

Minutes ticked by.  Caleb breathed in; Fjord breathed out.  One man rested and the other thought.

“What d’ya reckon that commotion is?”

Fjord’s eyes were closed but the boisterous volume of Jester’s voice was unmistakable. Caleb himself had been staring at nothing; unwilling to abandon his watch but equally strained to ignore the thoughts plaguing him.  Now he looked to Fjord. The half-orc looked better now that he was standing, or rather _leaning_ against the room’s far wall, so Caleb looked back over his shoulder.

“Ah,” he breathed, taking in the scene at a glance. “I believe Jester and Yasha are dispelling another demonic rift.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Fjord echoed--his tone lifting as if to say _is that all_?

A huff escaped Caleb; it might have been a laugh--but then Fjord was _definitely_ laughing and it made something high in Caleb’s chest burn.  The spindle of magic in him flared brighter; spun faster.

And Caleb did something that was either very brave or very foolish--what he’d been wanting to do since he saw the half-orc fall: he took Fjord’s hand. He didn’t know how he remained so cold even in the close and closed off air of the workshop, but where Caleb’s hand was warm--almost burning with residual energy--Fjord’s hand was calloused and cool.  It slotted so neatly into his own, fingers twining together, he half-hoped Fjord hadn’t noticed the change at all--though he knew there was no way he’d mistaken his intent. He risked a glance up.

Fjord’s eyes were open: amber-bright and looking straight at him, a pleased sort of surprise in his face.

 _Faster, faster, faster_.

Caleb pressed his free hand against the sensation in his chest, flushed, and dropped it.  It was nothing; he was being stupid--behaving rashly, and Fjord---

Fjord was pulling him closer.  It was almost too much, the look on his face--Caleb knew he should look away, should deflect, minimize, step back--but he couldn’t.  He’d never been able to before, so what was the point in trying now; Fjord’s gaze ensnared him.

“We have some time.” Fjord’s voice was low, the pitched rumble of his twang no less affecting.

Caleb didn’t dare breath.  “ _Ja_?” he murmured.

Fjord didn’t let go, but his other hand reached for him---as if it were easy.  Caleb wanted to hate his confidence, his calm surety, but it was impossible to feel anything but the slight scrape of claws against his throat, the line of his jaw--the newly-shaved skin.  He felt uncertain. Exposed. Then all he felt was Fjord. The press of his mouth, the strong hand at the back of his neck pulling him down. A keening sound escaped him ( _faster, faster, faster_ ) and he grabbed the collar of Fjord’s armor.  Fjord’s hand tightened in Caleb’s hair in response, _need_ flaring between them and the press of their mouths becoming insistent, becoming bruises.  Caleb pushed down with all his meager strength at Fjord's shoulder, forcing their angle to change, pulling a sharp sound of surprise from Fjord. Then Caleb was licking into his mouth and Fjord surged up, his grip too tight and not enough.  Caleb wanted those hands all over him, he wanted--

A scream cut through them like a knife.  Jester’s. Everyone was shouting, Beau loudest of all.

“ _THE FU--?!_ ”

The monk never finished, and Caleb and Fjord sprung apart, just as the giant’s corpse dragged its mauled and grinning body from the floor.


End file.
